


Safe

by IdrisSmith



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Sherlolly-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-16 15:23:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4630296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdrisSmith/pseuds/IdrisSmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes was dead to the rest of the world and Molly Hooper thought, signing his death certificate would be it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Her

**Author's Note:**

> This is how I see that last night before Sherlock was gone. Just quietly...

Sherlock Holmes was dead. Officially, Sherlock Holmes was dead and the news of his departure had taken over every newspaper’s website front page in the country. Whatever the report said, whether they mourn his loss or glorified or even celebrated it, it was simply not true. He wasn’t dead. No, not really. He was still breathing, his heart was still being on his chest and he was still in the world, regardless or not the world wanted him to.

 

She had come in late that night, avoiding tails and the reporters whom were camping just outside the hospital. They were persistent, demanding answers and shoving questions at every single staffs that were in and out of the building. Several had lost their minds, shoving the camera back to the photojournalists while others just plow through. Very few people had anything to say about the dead man. It was surprising when he had been a prominent feature within the corridor for quite some time. It was as if there was an understanding that he was one of them and they would fight tooth and nail to protect his memory. Strange, but, it happened.

 

She was lucky though; she got through the back door unscathed. But, she doubted that it was by chance. She knew him well enough to know that there were probably securities in place to keep her safe. She didn’t mind, she had keep her silence throughout the day, going about her work as if nothing was about to go wrong saved for the knowledge he was going to die and she would be the one killing him.

 

Of course, killing was a strong term if one were to consider she only needed to sign his death certificate and nothing more.

 

Or so she thought until she nearly passed out of surprise when she found him curled on her couch. He looked so small and breakable it broke her heart. He noted her presence almost immediately, straightening himself up, gathering his belstaff around him, and looking like a child as he did so. There were patches of red dye made to look like blood in his hair and on his clothes.

 

“Sorry, this is the only safe place I know,” He told her. He looked unsure about invading her privacy; it was the first time he had ever really been in her place.

 

She shook her head, removing her jacket and putting her bag aside on the table by the door before making her way to him. She took his appearance quickly, making mental notes of the cut and bruises, deciding she needed to treat those first. She made a quick turn, disappearing behind the door her room only to return with a first aid kit in her hand.

 

“Move over,” She said and he did.

 

Her movement was quick and precise. She noted his eyes fixed on her, deducing – perhaps, as she patched him up, but, said nothing. The silence would have been deafening to other, still, she was used to it. She couldn’t recall how many hours they had spent for the last few years in comfortable silence while they work next to each other. This was nothing; she was just helping a friend, a friend who she was helplessly in love with. She knew that, he didn’t.

 

“Take the bed,” She told him, putting away the supplies and gathering the used items with her as she got up.

 

He stopped her. His hand was on her arm, holding her back lightly.

 

She turned, giving him a confused look. They didn’t speak much of the day’s event; in fact, she had not even seen him all day. He was never at the hospital, the ambulance arrived without him and she had only signed the papers as requested. She didn’t even think she would be seeing him, not at all. She was sure he would be on the first flight out.

 

“Do you need anything?” She asked, recalling if there was anything edible in her fridge if he wanted something. She hadn’t had the time to shop all week or even called to have the groceries delivered by the market down the street.

 

“No,” He shook his head, “Thank you, Molly Hooper,”

 

Her eyes wide, to say that she was surprised would be an understatement. She was not expecting a thank you from him. She didn’t know if she was even expecting anything.

 

“Um… You’re welcome,” She stumbled over her words, blushing furiously as she did so, “I might have some leftover Chinese from last night, do you want some?”

 

He shook his head this time, leaning back into the chair and she suddenly missed the feel of his touch on her arm. It was nothing intimate, but, it said everything. Him being in her flat instead of a safe house, him searching for her instead of a general physician that his brother probably have on payroll, him sitting on her couch and him, just being there. He trusted her. She knew he did, he said it so himself, but, words are just words.

 

“Take my bed, it’s bigger than the one in the guest room,” She said when she saw the apparent signs of exhaustion on his face.

 

He nodded, finally getting up from the couch. Her eyes followed him as he limped his way to her room. She shook her head; of course he knew where it was.

 

As soon as he disappeared, she turned on her heels, busying herself. She picked up her bag; retrieve her mobile before sending a simple text.

 

_He’s here, he’s safe – **M**_

 

She knew Mycroft probably already know where Sherlock was, still, she felt obligated to inform the man. If it was her family, if it was the person she loved, she would want to know even when there was a vast network that could have informed her of that person’s whereabouts. She would want to know the firsthand account of that person’s safety.

 

A second later, her mobile buzzed.

 

_Thank you, Miss Hooper – **MH**_

 

She was right.

 

She forsook the idea of calling for takeaways even when her stomach had started to grumble. Instead, she turned into her kitchen, quickly making a sandwich with what she had left in her fridge for herself and another one for him if he were to wake in the middle of the night and feel hungry. She knew he wouldn’t, she understood his eating habit all too well. Still, she told herself; just in case.

 

He didn’t. She woke in the middle of the night on the couch, still in her work clothes and crumbs on her face and the television on. The house was quiet, but, she could almost hear the sound of his faint snores from her room, realizing he did not closed the door to the room all the way. She sat, listening to the sound; it was reassuring to hear, to know he was still there. Her eyes flickered to her wristwatch and her ears caught the static sound coming from the television.

 

It was nearly three in the morning. It was a new day and a new day where Sherlock Holmes no longer existed in the world.

 

Minutes ticked away as she listened to him breathing. Only at the sound of rustling sheets did she get up from the couch as quietly as possible and made her way to her room that was now occupied as him. She reasoned that she was concerned as she pushed the door open as slowly as she could, trying not to wake the consulting detective up.

 

What she found sent her heart into overdrive. He slept with the abandon of a child, peacefully and quietly so, saved from the snores. There were no signs of tension and anxiety as he inhaled and exhaled one breath after another. He was at ease, at peace, even with the faint cuts on his face; he looked as beautiful as she first saw him.

 

She must have stood for hours before she moved away from the doorframe, closing the door behind her. As she returned to the couch, abandoning the idea of sleep on the terrible excuse of a mattress in the guest room, she wondered what sort of bed he would be sleeping on tomorrow and where he would be. She wondered about his safety too, worried whether or not he would return safely. He had to; there were a number of people waiting for him. And even if it didn’t matter, she would be there waiting too.

 

Her thoughts drifted as she hugged one of the throw pillows to her chest, trying to find a comfortable position. It took her a while, but, she managed to waged herself on the couch well enough to drift back to sleep.

 

And when she woke the next day, the room was entirely too dark for her, prompting her to blink several times before she could open her eyes. The first thing she noted was, she was not on the couch and the second was his lingering smell on her pillow. And she realized he was gone, not leaving even a note behind.


	2. Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was so much he wanted to say, but, couldn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this from phone... Hope it doesn't look weird...

He sat, staring at the palm of his hand as if it would offer him all the answers he was searching for. It had been approximately two hours since he had ‘died’ and he was sure that by now, Molly Hooper was in the morgue, signing off his death certificate, ensuring his death on paper. He didn’t think he would be sentimental, leaving his life behind, but, as the car cruised along the familiar streets of London, he could feel the tightening in his chest. He was leaving everything he knew and dare he say it, love, behind. The city was his playground, his home, his safe haven and now he had to bid his goodbye and he was not even sure if he would ever return.

He wondered briefly how long he would be gone, a month? Two? He was not entirely sure how vast the network would be. As exciting it was to venture into the world and exhilarating it would be to tear down an empire of a man that had threatened his life, his friends and his family, he would have much rather be home. Here. Everyone he love and care of was there too. If it only had been another way, he really did had searched and thought of every viable option. There was none.

“Stop the car,” He said, catching the glimpse of a familiar road.

His eyes landed on one of the familiar shop, within the tinted car, he could see the world bustling about. The world was still moving without him in it. He knew it would, of course he knew, but, it was still a blow to his ego and his departure left no impact whatsoever saved for the small group of people. And her, he wondered how his absence would affect her. Would she miss him when he while he was away? He wanted to believe she would.

But, he doubted he deserved that. He never deserved her.

“I’ll walk from here,” He announced after a moment. He knew where he was heading; he needed to see her, just two blocks down where they were parked, he could easily catch the tube to her place. He had spent countless nights for the past months under that building making sure she was fine. Her importance dawned on him late, but, fortunately not a little too late.

“But, Sir…” The driver tried to protest. His order was to keep the man out of sight and it was not secret.

“I’ll let him know,” Sherlock replied, holding up an untraceable mobile he was handed earlier. Mycroft had insisted on it. It didn’t take a genius to know there was a tracking device in it. He didn’t argue, as long as he could go where he needed to. The one place he knew he knew he felt safe.

The driver hesitated, “Sir…”

“I could just sneak away, you know that, right?” Sherlock pointed easily, he was already pushing the car door open, “And he knows where to reach me,”

He didn’t wait for a respond, he just darted onto the street, pulling his belstaff closer and pulled out a beanie. On any other day, he would rather have die – well, he did die today, so, that argument was invalid. He sighed, casting his gaze at the pavement. The phrase; how the mighty have fallen crossed his mind and he chuckled darkly.

He had fallen, just not quite so literally.

Of course, he appreciated being able to move around practically unnoticed, but, was disappointed on how foolish people could be not to recognize him. Then again, humans are generally too self-absorb to notice the coming and goings of things. Perhaps, it was why Clark Kent managed to go undetected even with just a pair of glasses and a different hairstyle.

Without missing a beat, he filed that information under the things he would need to delete later. He would have plenty of time after all.

Picking her lock was probably not the best idea he ever had, but, after a few knocks with no answer, he was left with no other choice. He knew very well he couldn’t stay out in the open for far too long; he was a dead man after all and prowling around the corridor would attract unwanted attention.

And it was easy; he wondered privately whether he should her better quality lock. But, decided against it. It was not his place to do such thing. A heavy sigh fell from his lips as he closed the door behind him, in the room, even standing in semi-darkness and without her presence, he felt safer. It was as if the very space she occupied could protect him from any monsters. It was ridiculous, still.

He didn’t bother turning on the lights, partly because it was dangerous to announce his presence and partly because he didn’t want to take up too much space in her flat. He head to the couch he noticed earlier and fell into it. His mind wandered as he made himself comfortable; the probability of change, the probability of never returning and her.

He should probably noticed the sound of the jiggling keys or the door opening, but, he was too far deep in his sleep (he didn’t even remember falling asleep, but, he did) that he missed it. Then again, he probably shouldn’t break into her flat in the first place. It was not until he heard her footsteps that he realized she was home, to be more specific, her gasp woke him, prompting him to wake up and face her. He shocked her, but, he knew that all to well.

“Sorry, this is the only safe place I know,” His words came short of a murmur. She had every right to kick him out of her flat. He had never crossed the boundaries of their personal relationship to this level. But, he was telling the truth when he said it was the only safe place he knew.

He watched her nodded, following her movements and when she stopped short from the sofa and promptly turned, he felt uneasy. He really didn’t want to disrupt her life more than he already did. He didn’t really need John to tell him that he had been a bastard towards her. Part of him wanted to stay and another part wanted to just leave her in peace.

And that was when she returned, first aid kit in her hand, speaking softly to him.

“Move over,” She said and he did.

He was simply staring at her now, watching her as her hand travelled around his face, fixing the few cuts and bruises he had acquired earlier in the day. He had never seen this close to her, this personal and he felt a little lost and at home at the same time. His heart was beating hard, throwing assault on his ribcage. Silence, he had never hated the silence as much as he did now. He liked it better when she talked about everything and nothing. Sure, there were quiet moments in the lab or whenever they work together, but, he had always preferred it if she had been talking.

He liked the sound of her voice, the comfort it brought. He marveled at how he could have not possibly been as well adjusted if she was not there. She accepted his eccentricities and ran with it. She was important and he wanted to say something, but, she beat him to it.

“Take the bed,” And his heart sunk. He was not sure what he wanted to hear, but, he knew it was not that statement.

He felt the crack as if the organ pumping in his chest was made of glass as she got up. He reached without thinking. He noted her confused look and tried not to swallow.

“Do you need anything?” She was always very accommodating. Just once he hoped she wouldn’t. Just once he wished, just wishing.

“No,” He shook his head, “Thank you, Molly Hooper,”

There were other words he wanted to say, but, all of those words were stuck in his throat. He wanted to tell her so much. He wanted to praise her, complimented her. He wanted to say something that mattered even more, but, he couldn’t. He was leaving and she was staying behind without him. And he was expecting the surprise look on her face, well, he was a prized idiot.

“Um… You’re welcome,” And that blush on her face, it took every ounce of his willpower not to kiss them, “I might have some leftover Chinese from last night, do you want some?”

He could only shake his head again as he leaned back into the chair. He was feeling regretful, having to let go of her arm. He wished he could say more.

“Take my bed, it’s bigger than the one in the guest room,” She told him.

He nodded, accepting how things were. It was too late to change things. With great reluctance, he got up from the couch. He dared not to look back; something told him he would do something that could potentially hurt her if he did.

He took his time, slowly and carefully, moving around her room and not even bothering to close the door behind him properly. The yellow walls made him smile; it was so very like her. He would have been surprised if her walls had been any other colour and Molly, well, she was not conventional. His eyes travelled, nothing the picture frames, the antique drawer, the small mirror, the closet and the mismatched furniture that looked well together as he removed his scarf and belstaff. The room, her flat, felt more like home than Baker Street. It felt like her, every corner was her.

He didn’t even debate on keeping his clothes on to be as comfortable as possible. He slept in his shirt and trousers on. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, he was already asking too much by being there.

And he slept, he fell asleep easily the moment his head touched the pillow. It smelled of her and he was lost – or it could be that he found where he wanted to be and know it was alright to just rest, to stop and to just close his eyes.

The day was too early even the sun was still too shy to show itself. But, Sherlock Holmes was already up and dressed in the same clothes he had come in with the night before. His phone buzzed, indicating a text message coming in. In the darkness, he flipped open the mobile, illuminating his face and the ceiling above him.

The car will be waiting at the corner in ten minutes – MH

The message was short and precise, nothing personal about it. In fact, it was more distant that it could possibly be. There was no sense of attachment or worry sent with the words, it was just telling him where he should be while the world was still blanketed by the night sky.

He sighed, stepping out of the room as quietly as possible. It was then he saw her, tossing and turning in her sleep. She mumbled his name, telling him not to go and to stay. His heart lurched, for a second he considered the idea of staying with her. Yet, he knew better. She was one of the people he was going for. He needed to protect her above all else. She was far too important for him to loose.

He kneeled by the couch, studying her face, as if he was trying to commit to memory when in truth he need not. He remembered her every feature; the way she would crinkle her nose when she was amused and even her irritated arching eyebrow. Sometimes, he would even tease her on purpose if he wanted to see her pout. She didn’t know just how beautiful she was in his eyes and he found himself quietly vowing to return and tell her just that.

The minutes ticked and he realized, as much as he wanted not to move from the very spot forever, he still had to. Slowly, he got back onto his feet and then leaned over her again. His body bent forward and carefully, he picked her up from the couch and into his arms. She was lighter than he had imagined her to be. And she fit so perfectly, shifting a little to throw her arms over his shoulder, effectively pulling herself even closer. His mind went into overdrive and he could hear the sound of his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

“Come back,” He heard a faint whisper and for a moment he wondered if he had woken her up.

He didn’t. Her eyes were still shut and her arms were tight around him.

“Come back to me,” She repeated, lost in her dreams. Or it might as well be a nightmare.

“I will,” He said, merely a whisper in her ear, “I promise,”

He laid her on the bed, as carefully as she could before tucking her under the covers. She rolled involuntarily in her sleep and sighed. And he couldn’t help but stare at her as she breathed. She was the most brilliant he had ever seen, the one that was so bright he feared his darkness could eclipse. He forgot to give her a bit more credit; there was no darkness in the world that would ever conceal her.

And he stayed until the last second, content to just see her alive and making a silent promise. He will return, even if he had to come back from the depths of hell itself, he would come back. It wasn’t until his mobile vibrated indicating an incoming message that he moved, leaving her to her dreams, not daring a last look as he closed the door tightly behind him.


End file.
